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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29313036">love languages</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_not_a_bird/pseuds/i_am_not_a_bird'>i_am_not_a_bird</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/pseuds/skittykitty'>skittykitty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Drabble, F/M, Gen, POV Multiple, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:56:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29313036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_not_a_bird/pseuds/i_am_not_a_bird, https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/pseuds/skittykitty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is born with words on their skin. They say what people in your life think of you, deep down. </p><p><i>Son,</i> a little boy reads. </p><p><i>Sunshine,</i> a little girl locked in a tower hears.</p><p><i>Thief,</i> an orphan whispers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(chapter two) - Relationship, Adira &amp; Edmund &amp; Hector &amp; Quirin (Disney: Tangled), Cassandra &amp; Rapunzel (Disney: Tangled), Edmund &amp; Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, Quirin &amp; Varian (Disney)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Completed stories I've read</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. quality time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rapunzel had the word “princess” scrawled over her collarbone, because she was Mother’s perfect little princess, even if she didn’t have any actual royal blood. “Sundrop” was on her forehead, close to the spot Mother always kissed her goodnight. “Daughter” and “Darling Rapunzel” were written on opposite wrists— Mother’s words to her, comforting and surrounding her from both sides, right at the pulse point. When she was stressed, she pressed a finger to one of her wrists, imagining she could feel the texture of the words. Mother loved her; she was her daughter, and the words proved it. Mother would keep her safe, forever and always.</p><p>The night she left the tower, she showed those words to Flynn Rider. She told him that they were proof her Mother loved her and only ever wanted to protect her. They were the reasons she hadn’t left yet, even though she had wanted to. Mother didn’t think it was safe. And Mother knew best. </p><p>Flynn frowned, and Rapunzel got the sense he didn’t believe her.</p><p>It wasn’t until later that night, when she was fussing with a torn seam on her dress, that she noticed a mark she hadn’t seen before. “HOSTAGE” was written in all-caps, right on the inside of her knee. Small and faint like it was a secret. Like it was something she wasn’t supposed to know about until now. </p><p>The lanterns happened not long after, and the fight at the tower, and it began to sink in just <em> why </em> Rapunzel had “princess” written on her collarbone. All of the sudden, “daughter” and “my darling” started to feel less like a comfort and more like wrist shackles, pinning her to the tower against her will. </p><p>It was fitting that Eugene would be the one to give her the metaphorical key.</p><p> </p><p>“My love” was patterned over Rapunzel’s heart, along with “creepy, gorgeous hair girl”. She was fairly certain both of those were from Eugene. It was kind of sweet that his true love for her and his first impression of her were tied so close together, both of them over her heart. It was a living reminder that he had always loved her.</p><p>“Friend” was written messily on her shoulder, bright and Pascal-green-colored.</p><p>“Raps” was on the back of her neck, and Rapunzel didn’t understand that one until she met Cassandra. Cassandra, who was bold and confident and threw shot through the castle gardens and snuck out with her to the lands outside Corona and called her <em> Raps </em> . When Rapunzel first met her and was anxious to become her friend, she had adored having the mark. It showed that Cassandra had <em> some </em> impression of her, even if she couldn’t say for sure if it was positive or negative. Now, with Cassandra journeying beyond Corona, it was a reminder of their old friendship.</p><p>There were lots of marks that she only noticed after she left the tower. “Mourning” and “free at last” were written close to her shoulders, clustered together side by side like they couldn’t be separated. She had always known about the “powerful” written on her jawline, but she noticed one day in the mirror that “powerless” was also written on the small of her back, in the same loopy handwriting as the wrist marks. Gothel’s words. She shuddered when she noticed them the first time.</p><p>Rapunzel was almost covered in marks. There was also the “free-spirited” written on the sole of her foot, and the “curious” on the small of her back in Varian’s blocky handwriting, and the “worst person ever” across her stomach. That last one had worried her quite a bit, actually. She had almost managed to convince herself it was some kind of practical joke from the universe until she met Monty. He was frustrating and stubborn and nothing she did to win him over worked; she just had to accept that his mark was never going away.</p><p>She liked having so many marks, though. She liked the feeling that her skin was a tapestry of her own life, full of the good and the bad and the stories yet to come. She liked that she had a record on her body of the struggles she had survived, and that she was living proof that things had gotten better. </p><p>Rapunzel believed very strongly that things would always get better.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Cassandra was twelve years old when she decided that marks were stupid and didn’t mean anything. Her father had always said that she shouldn’t care what other people thought about her, so even if the marks <em> did </em> mean something, they didn’t matter. Obviously.</p><p>(If they <em> mattered </em>, then the “traitor” and “enemy of the Kingdom” and “cold-hearted villain” written on her chest would mean something. And they clearly didn’t mean anything. It were ludicrous to even think about; Cassandra would never betray her Kingdom.)</p><p>So she wouldn’t tell anyone. That was fine. Cassandra wasn’t required to show the marks to anyone, and her father didn’t care. The only marks that she couldn’t hide under her clothes were the “tough” and “hard-working” written across her forehead, and she was pretty sure everyone already knew that about her. So really, ignoring them was already second nature.</p><p> </p><p>And yet.</p><p>“I have a mark that says ‘her mother’s daughter’ on my stomach,” Cassandra admitted quietly to Eugene.</p><p>She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to say something like that. She had never told anyone about any of her marks before.</p><p>But Eugene had been so honest with her about growing up as an orphan after Rapunzel had locked them in that cell together. She just felt like she had to say <em> something </em>.</p><p>When Eugene spoke, his voice didn’t carry any of the usual snark. “Oh?” he said softly.</p><p>“I don’t know what it means,” Cassandra said. “I don’t— I don’t remember my real mother. But someone must. Sometimes I think that’s how my father sees me, but I’ve never asked him.” She swallowed, trying to ignore the way the words felt like a weight on her chest. “I have other words. Much… nastier words.”</p><p>“I have ‘thief’ on my cheek, as you can probably tell,” Eugene said. “So I know a thing or two about dealing with other people’s expectations. You get saddled with a mark that tells you what you’re gonna become, and you almost can’t bring yourself to change anything, because what use would it be?”</p><p>“Right,” Cassandra said. “That makes sense.”</p><p>Cassandra almost, <em> almost </em>, let herself feel a glimmer of sympathy for Fitzherbert after that little speech. She forcefully reminded herself of the Halberd Incident, and the feeling thankfully went away. </p><p>It wasn’t important, anyway. The marks weren’t important. Cassandra wasn’t sure why she had brought the whole thing up when they didn’t even matter in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>And yet.</p><p>On the journey beyond Corona, following the trail of black rocks to who-knows-where, Cassandra thought about the marks. She didn’t want to, but they kept coming back to her, like a fly nagging persistently around her head.</p><p>All over the back of her neck and the top of her shoulders, in flowery purple handwriting, were words like “brave” and “secretly sweet” and “my best friend” and “the greatest warrior I’ve ever met”. She had to crane her neck and look through a mirror to see any of them, and even then, they were distorted and hard to read. But they were there. They were proof that Rapunzel had once cared about her, and maybe still did.</p><p>It shouldn’t matter whether or not Rapunzel cared about Cass. And it <em> didn’t </em> . It was just that lately, it had felt like there was some great uncrossable distance between them, a distance that had never been there before. Their old dynamic was gone. Rapunzel trusted <em> Adira </em> more than she did Cassandra, and Cass’s injured hand was evidence.</p><p>(She would never tell anyone this, but when the decay incantation burnt her hand, it burnt away a soulmark as well. “Strong” had once been written there, in her father’s bold, tidy handwriting, but there was no trace of it on the now-charred skin.)</p><p>Cassandra also had another mark on her shoulders, probably the biggest one out of all of them. It was “PUPPET”, written in massive dark letters across the backs of both shoulders, like it was a brand. That mark stung to think about. The handwriting wasn’t familiar, but it was clustered very close to the marks she knew were for Rapunzel, so Cassandra knew there was a connection. It was clear what the soulmarks were trying to tell her: Cassandra was Rapunzel’s puppet. Other people saw her as Rapunzel’s puppet. Cassandra was at the princess’s beck and call, out here helping her on this journey when she could be training back home. And she was starting to get sick of it.</p><p>She was so certain that was what the marks meant than the vision of Mother Gothel in the shell house slotted right into place in Cassandra’s worldview. She would always be second best to Rapunzel, and she was done with it. For once, she would take something for herself.</p><p>Cassandra wouldn’t be anyone’s puppet anymore.</p><p> </p><p>And yet.</p><p>“I th-thought the mark on my back meant I was<em> your </em> puppet,” Cassandra bawled. “But I was Zhan Tiri’s. Everything I did, it was for <em> her </em> goals, <em> her </em> plans, <em> her </em>idea of me…”</p><p>“Shh,” Rapunzel said, rubbing comforting circles on Cassandra’s shoulders. “Cass, don’t think like that.”</p><p>“I really am what they say about me,” Cassandra plowed on. “Cold-hearted. A-a traitor. A villain. I-- Raps,” she choked out, “I’m my mother’s daughter. That’s all I’ve been, all along-- Gothel’s--”</p><p>Rapunzel glanced at her, looking genuinely alarmed. “Cass, no, no, no. You don’t really believe that.”</p><p>Cassandra buried her face in Rapunzel’s neck, not trusting herself to speak.</p><p>“Cassandra,” Rapunzel said, firmer, and Cass felt a hand touch her cheek. “You’re so much more than that. You’re brave and you’re strong and you’re good at anything you set your mind to. You’re my <em> best friend </em>. You don’t have to define yourself by Zhan Tiri, or by Gothel. You don’t even have to define yourself by me.” She smiled softly. “You’re enough on your own. You’re worth it. Okay?”</p><p>Cassandra nodded wordlessly. <em> Okay. </em></p><p>A part of her was still pretty sure Rapunzel was wrong. She didn’t know how to define herself without other people. Even when she had tried to take her own destiny, all she had really been doing was stealing Rapunzel’s, not crafting one of her own.</p><p>But she could try. Once it was all over, she could try.</p><p>Cassandra picked herself back together, got herself ready for a final battle, and listened to Rapunzel when she said <em> There is more in you </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Her right hand was still useless; no healing incantation would be able fix a wound that had been decayed like that. But some of the charring had disappeared, and her skin was patchy and mottled gray instead of dark and burnt all over. </p><p>Faintly, through the scars, Cassandra could make out the word “strong” again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. words of affirmation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Featuring: Edmund, Eugene, Quirin, Varian, Hector, and Adira.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Had a ton of fun with this!!! Thank you <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cultivation/pseuds/Cultivation">Cultivation</a> for betaing this!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Life wasn’t fair.</p>
<p>Edmund knew this since he was old enough to read. Marks covered people’s bodies when they were born— it spoke of who they were... <em>and</em> <em>who they would become. </em>It was a known tradition to disallow others to read one's marks.</p>
<p>But, as royalty, his marks were public knowledge the moment he was born.</p>
<p>Of course, <em> King </em>was one of the biggest marks on his small body. The word wrapped around his ankle, fitting perfectly. </p>
<p>It was a symbol of pride.</p>
<p>His father’s mark had been across his shoulders, a show of the pressure the title put on him.</p>
<p>Edmund’s marks were of <em>chains. </em></p>
<p><em> Dad </em>was a surprise to the child, but it seemed everyone else expected it of him. He would have to have a son to continue his legacy. But… would his son be loved?</p>
<p>Or would he too be without the mark of <em> son? </em> With a father who looked at him with uncaring eyes, only caring for his <em>legacy</em>.</p>
<p><em>I won’t be like that</em>, he whispered. <em>I’ll love this little soul with all my heart. Nothing will keep us apart.</em></p>
<hr/>
<p>After ordering the Brotherhood to leave— <em> after sending his son far away— </em>Edmund finally had a moment to himself. It had been… decades since he was last alone. He’d always had guards nearby, advisors walking beside him, or the Brotherhood to talk to.</p>
<p>Now, everyone was gone.</p>
<p>Everything he had built for himself, the family, the kingdom, the <em>life— </em> it was all gone. Burned down... by his <em>own </em>hands. </p>
<p>It was a slow simmer, a pain too deep to bear.</p>
<p>It was <em>paranoid </em>written over his heart— made in the messy scrawl of a child. One so similar to his own.</p>
<p>The same handwriting as <em> Dad</em>. </p>
<p>The broken king smiled, hoping someday he would get to see his perfect son once again.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Eugene had always been a troublemaker.</p>
<p>With <em>thief </em>scrawled across his cheek, what else would the orphanage staff believe? Maybe in the beginning he could have been <em>good— </em>could have been everything Arnwaldo saw in him. </p>
<p>Someday, he would be able to earn <em>my love </em>curled lovingly around his Adam’s apple. Someday, he would deserve the love and affection in Arnwaldo’s eyes. Someday, he might even deserve <em>my best friend </em>wrapped around his bicep.</p>
<p>But, today, he would deserve <em> Flynn Rider.  </em></p>
<p>Eugene Fitzherbert didn’t deserve Arnwaldo Schnitz, but Flynn Rider deserved Lance Strongbow.</p>
<p>They were partners-in-crime.</p>
<p>Maybe even best friends... for a time.</p>
<hr/>
<p>His son was a good kid— he was everything Quirin had ever wanted from Old Corona. He was all the happiness, joy, and the little taste of chaos he fondly remembered the Brotherhood for.</p>
<p>Hector had always caused chaos. His habits of sleeping in trees, taming wild animals, and causing trouble with anyone he came in contact with had always incited issues between the Brotherhood and the Dark Kingdom.</p>
<p>But they had been a family.</p>
<p>They were not related but had all been trained by King Edmund himself. They earned their keep, and they loved one another.</p>
<p>They were more than family— the Brotherhood ascended even the marks upon their skin. They had found each other and would never let go. </p>
<p>But, Edmund had still split them apart.</p>
<p>He had taken the one thing that had kept Quirin in the Dark Kingdom— had taken <em>brother </em>away from him and burned it to ashes.</p>
<p>And that was fine.</p>
<p>It had to be fine.</p>
<p>If he wasn’t <em>fine </em>—</p>
<p>If he wasn’t fine… he would go back out there. Take Varian out for an adventure to find Adira and Hector. To ignore the king's orders and go <em>home. </em></p>
<p>But, Varian needed him.</p>
<p>Varian, with <em>monster </em>over his stomach. His <em>son, </em> with <em>terrorist </em>on the back of his palm.</p>
<p>His son messed up often, and Quirin knew that. That was why he had to <em>stay… </em>children needed stability and Quirin would have to be that for Varian.</p>
<p>If he couldn’t be there for his family, he would make sure to stay to the end for Varian.</p>
<p>It was the least his son deserved.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Dad was frozen in amber and it was <em>all his fault. </em></p>
<p>Now… now, he understood his marks. All of them were <em>true! </em></p>
<p>
  <em> Monster, terrorist, murderer. </em>
</p>
<p>Varian looked at the backs of his palms. His left screamed <em>terrorist— you monster, Varian, how could you do this? </em> While his right held him softly, whispering <em>you wonderful blessed child, you are all I could have ever asked for. </em></p>
<p>Marks were supposed to be a thing of love— they were a sign of all those you have touched, who you have touched in turn. Somehow, society had managed to turn that into a sin.</p>
<p>Having too many or not enough marks could cause rampant rumors; that they would die early— that they would commit some terrible crime.</p>
<p>That they weren’t <em>worthy </em>of love.</p>
<p>Princess Rapunzel returned to the kingdom with very few marks. At least, very few she would show off. <em> Princess </em>was a given, but <em> Sundrop </em>had been a surprise to the whole kingdom.</p>
<p>Rapunzel had few marks, but she had excuses. She had been held captive for the first eighteen years of her life.</p>
<p>Varian had no such excuse.</p>
<p>He was just… a monster.</p>
<p>A monster who had killed his father.</p>
<p>A monster who wanted <em>revenge. </em></p>
<hr/>
<p>Hector spent years alone. The tree was his home, and his bearcats kept him company. It was a slow existence, patrolling the tree for intruders every day and hunting for food.</p>
<p>It was a quiet life. </p>
<p>Was this what Quirin had left them for? A wife and child? They already <em>had </em>a family. Edmund sent them away, Adira <em>left, </em>and Quirin… Quirin gave up on them.</p>
<p>The Brotherhood were supposed to ascend marks. They were <em>more </em>but still inevitably less.</p>
<p>Edmund gave them up in some misguided attempt to protect them.</p>
<p>Quirin gave them up for a family.</p>
<p>But, Adira— <em> brother </em>wrapped around his ribs, underneath <em> Uncle Hector— </em> hadn’t chosen someone she had a destined connection to, <em> no. </em></p>
<p>
  <em> She had chosen the Sundrop. </em>
</p>
<p>Adira had broken the code they had <em>lived by. </em></p>
<p>Hector was the only member of the Brotherhood remaining. </p>
<p><em> Maybe, after this is all over, we can go back to the way we were. </em> Hector grimaced at the thought. <em> Hope has never saved anyone. </em></p>
<hr/>
<p>Hope was all Adira had left.</p>
<p>She had been alone for so long, traveling the world and trying to find a purpose. Quirin had found purpose in his family, but Adira just… wasn’t fit for family life.</p>
<p>Adira was a warrior at heart; she <em>needed </em>to keep moving because— because if she stopped, what then?</p>
<p>The only thing she had to look forward to was the Sundrop. Saving her family.</p>
<p>Reuniting with Hector, and Quirin… and Edmund. Her king, who had thrown all three of them to the gallows.</p>
<p>Why was <em>he </em>allowed to stay, but they couldn’t?</p>
<p>He had personally trained all of them!</p>
<p>But… anger wouldn’t help her now. Anger would blind her— remind her of <em>traitor, </em>the word carved into her hip. It was in Hector’s handwriting. </p>
<p>He had always hated anyone who wasn’t as loyal as he was. He had <em>loyal to the end </em>across his chest; of course, he would stick by their King’s side. Why had she expected anything different?</p>
<p>At least <em>sister, dear one, </em> and <em> Aunt Adira </em>couldn’t be thrown away as easily as they all thought.</p>
<p>They couldn’t pretend she was nothing.</p>
<p>They couldn’t ignore all they had once enjoyed.</p>
<p>She would bring the Brotherhood back together… no matter what.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The first part was by i_am_not_a_bird, and the second part was by skittykitty. The idea was all skittykitty’s. Hope you enjoyed!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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